More than a Memory
by Court
Summary: Patrick recently lost the love of his life, and now he must come to terms with the 'why' and how to make things right. Can he find it in himself to let go of his fears and fully commit himself to Robin in every way possible? PatrickRobinSCRUBS


**Title:** More than a Memory

**Author:** Court

**Rating:** PG-13 (for now)

**Summary:** Patrick recently lost the love of his life, and now he must come to terms with the 'why' and how to make things right. Can he find it in himself to let go of his fears and fully commit himself to Robin - in every way possible?

**Disclaimer:** If these characters or anything regarding GH was mine or influenced in any way by someone like myself, Blinky and his friends would be on the backburner and SCRUBS would get all of their airtime and Karen Harris and Mary Sue Price would be the only names you'd ever see in the writing credits everyday.

**Song Credit:** "More than a Memory" by Garth Brooks

* * *

**Part One  
**  
_People say she's only in my head  
Gonna take time, but I'll forget  
But when she's in every minute of every day  
Every thought I think  
Every breath I take  
She's everywhere and she's everything  
She's more than a memory_

He was cold. Not the kind of cold that stems from lack of heat, making you crave a steamy cup of coffee or a toasty fireplace; the kind that makes you numb inside. It was like a part of himself was gone forever and it wasn't in his power to get it back. The sense of loss he felt only seemed to intensify each day, until there was nothing left but a hole. This hole could be filled by many things he knew, but nothing that would ever mount to anything meaningful. Because what had once been there was something that most people never got to have even once, and through the chain of shattered hope that was his life, he had failed to be stronger than his fears one time to many. There would never be another like her. He would never know the utter bliss of simply being with her, yet finding himself more at peace in those moments than any he had known in the days prior, when he was a content man walking around with a void in his heart. Now, having come full circle, he wasn't content at all. And what was once a void was now a piece amongst a thousand others, left shattered...broken inside of him. Their razor sharp edges had once hurt like the fires of hell, like a gaping wound left impaired. But now, there was nothing. Nothing at all. And he had only himself to blame for it.

Sitting on the park bench he once shared with her, he recalls his own words that seemed to depict an ideal life for the both of them...together. Always together. It wasn't a perfect life, but the closest to one he or any other man could hope for. Yes, he had been on top of the world that day. Almost losing her and having her again...he felt blessed and thanked God for granting a desperate man's prayer on a darkened street one terrifying night. He had vowed to the Almighty and himself that he wouldn't let her go and that he'd always keep her safe, and now, nearly a year later - he had failed on both accounts. To be that man with that beautiful woman again...lazying around in bed doing a crossword puzzle, eating french toast and making love all day...to be there again...he'd trade anything. Give anything. Deep down inside, he knows this. But as the soft sprinkle shifts to a raging downpour of water from above, thunder thrashing in the air around him, he closes his eyes in defeat. The sun wasn't out, the sky wasn't blue and there were no flowers blooming around him. It was a harsh reality, but a reality at that: there was nothing to trade, because everything that mattered was her. She had been everything. His everything.

The wind howls, the trees hiss and together they act as a song against the silence that has surrounded him since the moment she said goodbye. He rises, seeking shelter from the storm, the sheets of rain like needles on his body. It seems like hours pass before he happens upon a small church, the tiny structure appearing amidst the chaos as if from nowhere, for his own benefit. She would have liked this place, he thinks, instantly cursing himself and whoever else was to blame for the perpetual connection she seemed to have to everything both directly and indirectly involving his life. It was always about her, and it had been that way since she had burst through those OR doors and professed him to be her miracle. Like a shimmering, brilliant star, she had become the center of his world. And even though she was no longer his, that hadn't changed...and it probably never would. Imagining her fascination with the classic features and the story behind it she'd most likely make her mission to discover, he smiles to himself. The memory of her face in these moments would always bring a smile to his.

Reaching for the handle on the left hand side of the set of doors, he pulls and is met with resistance. Trying the other side, he's met with the same fate. The towers of oak seem to mock him as the rain shows no signs of letting up, but he refuses to give up. Walking around the side, he happens upon a window. Luck ever on his side, the small frame would barely fit a child, much less a tall man. But the whispered sound of music soon reaches his ears, and instead of walking away, he allows his curiosity to guide him. Wiping first at his face and then the foggy glass before him, his vision remains blurry, but the canvas set before him is mainly clear: a wedding was going on inside. About fifty or so guests sit in the modest yet magnificant room, set aglow by dozens of tapered candles scattered throughout the space. Countless flowers kissed by a rainbow added charm and elegance to the floor, the altar and the empty threshhold that would soon frame the bride.

Though he can't make out their faces, he can't seem to tear himself away from his spot, outside looking in. It's a mere moment before the guests are rising to their feet, turning in the direction of the doorway for the first glimpse of the lady of the day; the lady in white. His gaze starting at the ground, the tips of her shoes peak out with each unhurried step she takes, two other pairs of black in plain view on either side of her. The candlelight creates a shadow in the folds of her dress, the gentle v of her skirt flowing like satin pearls. Both of her arms are tucked into another's, guiding her down the aisle to give her away. Her smile is exquisite...familiar. Her face...her face...

"Robin," he mutters in disbelief, placing his hands on the window and leaning in closer. Unlike the others, he could see her lovely features as he had almost everyday for the past two years of his life. The dark, silken hair that he had ran his fingers through at every opportunity was down and twined in soft waves, a red rose pinned near her right ear. The rich, glorious brown eyes that had once told him more than her words ever could glittered with unshed tears of happiness. The ravishing smile that lit up her whole face and once teased him before a sweet or sultry kiss now beamed at the faceless man at the altar that wasn't him. The love of his life was about to marry someone that wasn't him!

Suddenly, as if he were a snow ball that had been tossed into a fire, panic sets in and all he can think is that he is watching the end of his life happening right before his eyes, and he has to stop it. Starting with his hands, he begins to pound his open palms against the window with all his might. "Robin!!!!!!!!! Robin, don't do it!!!!"

But she doesn't stop. It doesn't stop. It just keeps going and it's as if no one is hearing him. His protests go unnoticed, and he watches in horror as Robin looks to the faceless man and begins to speak her vows. "ROBIN STOP!!!!!!!!! ROBIN!!!!!!"

His heart racing a mile a minute, his blood roaring in his eardrums, he wails into the night, the faces in the church slowly coming into view, one by one. "MAC!!!!!!!! ROBERT!!!!!!!! ANNA!!!!!!!!! PLEEEEASSSSE SOMEBODY!!!!!! DON'T ROBIN, PLEASE!!!!!!! I LOVE YOU!!!!!!!! I'M SORRY!!!!!!! DON'T DO THIS, ROBIN!!!!! ROBIIIIN!!!!!!"

The agony of what felt like his worst nightmare becomes a pain so intense that it cripples him, and he can no longer fight against the torture of it all. The words trapped in his throat, tears and raindrops beading his face...he has no choice but to surrender. Wincing as the faceless man bends down and captures _his_ Robin's lips in a kiss that makes her officially _not_ his - but another man's - he still can't bring himself to look away. Perhaps it's because he needs to know the face of the man that took what mattered most to him...his Robin. The time comes at last as Robin takes her new huband's hand and turns her head to meet his eye through the barrier of the window. As he suspected, the man he would now and forever dub his worst enemy looks towards him as well.

The man was Patrick Drake. The man...was _him_.

* * *

Shooting up in his bed, drenched in sweat, Patrick feels as though he's run a marathon. Every night this happened. Every night since she left him. The dreams were always different, but this one definitely stood out, above the rest. It was true that he had already lost Robin, but as long as she was still out there and he was still out there and they were both unmarried...there was still a chance. He wasn't an expert on the subject or anything, but he knew that what they had was something that only happened once. He wasn't naive enough to believe that he could find that kind of bond with another person ever again. He had simply resigned himself to the fact that he would have to live life as he once had, before Robin. Because nothing would ever be better than the life she had shown him; the life they had experienced together. He had told her that on more than one occasion, and he had meant it. 

Kicking the sheet away, he swears. He blamed the bed. It held too many memories. This apartment held too many memories. After all, she had picked it out for him, as well as the furniture in it. And the damn couch was even worse! It would be impossible to count the number of times they'd made love on that couch...the floor...the kitchen counter...the kitchen floor...the bed. Back to the blasted bed. How could he sleep in it and not think of her? Be haunted by dreams of her? Of what might have been? Of what should be? It didn't matter where he was, though. She was always with him. No matter what he said about their breakup, about how he was moving on...it just wasn't true. No amount of time or meaningless flings could erase her from his heart...his mind...his soul.

The guilt nagged at him relentlessly...it was his fault. And he knew that the ball was very much in his court. If he would stop being a selfish, scared moron for two seconds and get over himself, his ultimate fear of crashing and burning - of failing like his father - he could have it all. He knew it, and he still did nothing. But as his latest dream had pointed out to him, Robin wouldn't wait for him forever. She would never admit it to him or maybe even herself, but she still loved him, too. And she was still hoping that he would go out on a limb for her and be the man she wants him to be...needs him to be...a husband to her, and a father to their children.

Yes, he was a coward, indeed. Robin deserved better than him. But even as he claimed what he always felt in his heart to be true, the selfish guy inside of him knows that even that isn't reason enough for him to make himself fully let her go. Robin had taught him to live through his heart instead of his ever brilliant mind, and Robin was his heart. Without her, there was no true life to be had. Even a career as one of the top neurosurgeons in the country wouldn't fulfill him in the ways it once had. His perspective had been changed. Love is all that matters - that's what he had started to believe. But if that were true, then why wasn't Robin with him now? Why was he alone in what he had come to think of as their bed for months? Why couldn't they just be together and not think about the future so much? Logic told him he knew why.

Dropping his head between his knees, he breathes in and out, trying to calm himself down and force the tears that are threatening to spill over to disappear. Looking up, he gazes at their picture across the room, sitting atop his dresser. It wasn't a special occassion, just an ordinary day. Well, ordinary for them. It was one of those Sundays where they'd spent the day alone...that particular day in bed mostly. Pressed cheek to cheek, their smiles wide and eyes dancing with laughter, he remembers and cherishes that moment and all those before and after that he spent with her. And he yearns for more.

Reaching for the phone, he dials her cell phone number with every intention of telling her just that, but stops himself before he hears the connection. She'd probably just hang up on him anyway...

Or not. Hitting the redial button, he waits...and waits...and waits. As her voice mail picks up, he listens to the cheerful sound of her voice, finding comfort in that unintentional gift alone. Debating with himself on whether or not to leave a message, he finds himself speaking the words he felt but couldn't or wouldn't say to her face. "Robin, it's Patrick. I don't know if you missed this call or if you ignored it..." looking towards the clock, he sees that it's after three, and groans, "by the timing, I guess you're sleeping. I'm calling because...I can't...I can't sleep. The truth is, I haven't had a good night's sleep since the last time you were here with me...and I keep dreaming about you. I was looking at our picture...the one on the dresser...we were really happy, weren't we? How did we lose that? I don't know...I just...I needed to talk to you...my best friend. My only real friend. I just...needed to hear your voice, Robin. I just...miss you. I love you...I love you."

Whatever words he had left say went unsaid as he pressed the off button on his handset. His tears never went away and now left stains on his cheeks, his tongue tasting the salt of them as he bites his lip to stop it from trembling. Placing the phone back in it's cradle, he stretches out once more and adjusts the blankets over his lower body. Rolling to his side, he takes what used to be Robin's favorite pillow and wraps his arms around the plush object...instead of Robin. The intoxicating scent of her still remains, a delicious mix of vanilla and roses. No one could ever be what Robin was and still is to him...and he didn't want them to. He just wanted Robin, because he was lost without her. His home was no home without her. She was his home.

_to be continued..._

**THANKS FOR READING!!!!**


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